Heaven Can Wait
by Kawaii Chibi Megami
Summary: Usagi (a diplomat's daughter) and Hiiro (an assassin in training) were friends as children. Their friendship grew. Hiiro's secret life pulled him away from Usagi. They grew up. When Usagi is kidnapped, who but her childhood sweetheart will rescue her?
1. Prologue: The Kidnapping

Heaven Can Wait  
  
AN: Hmm. Well, how should I start this? All right. Got it. **deeeep breath** Nowdon'tbealarmedthisisjustanewstoryIthoughtofandIwantedtopostitrightawaysoh ereitisenjoy. **biiig grin**  
  
***  
  
Tsukino Usagi looked at the framed photographs sitting on her dresser. There were three of them. The first showed her with Hino Rei, her best friend and dearest confidant. The second showed her with her family. The third, the one her eyes lingered on, showed a smaller version of herself with her past crush, Yui Hiiro.  
  
Regardless of her attempts to preclude it, a tender smile curved her pretty lips as her eyes rested on the handsome face of the young male in the photograph. He was scowling into the camera, while she surreptitiously gave him bunny ears above his head, grinning widely.  
  
She frowned. The photo also brought her back to old memories, memories she sometimes wished she could forget. Was it only yesterday that they had been together...?  
  
***  
  
Yui Hiiro stumbled through the window and into his bedroom on the second floor of Quatre's fourth-biggest mansion. His breath came in short gasps. He practiced putting weight on his left leg--just to see if it was broken, sprained, or simply battered--but pain hammered into him and he fell face- down onto his bed.  
  
Pain.  
  
Memory.  
  
He turned his head and moonlight reflected off of something, bright moonlight that cut into his eyes and made him wince.  
  
It was over. The crash.  
  
He was alive.  
  
The crash is over and I'm alive, he thought. Then his eyes closed and he rested for long, long minutes. When he opened them again it was almost morning and some of the pain had abated--there were many dull aches--and the crash came back to him fully.  
  
Into the trees and out onto the lake. His gundam had crashed and sunk in the lake and he had somehow pulled free.  
  
He raised himself and slid off of the bed, grunting with the strain of movement. His legs were on fire and his forehead felt as if someone had been pounding on it with a dull, heavy boulder, but he could move.  
  
Light. What had blinded him earlier, right before he'd fallen asleep? The moonlight, yes, but it had reflected off of something. He went to his desk, upon which sat his laptop, a few pencils, stolen government files, a spare gun, an army knife...Wait, the knife.  
  
*Her* knife. The gift she had given him.  
  
In his mind he traced the lines of her face, her smile, her eyes and lips. Honey-blond hair. Bright blue eyes. Delicate, perfect eyebrows. Small nose. Pink lips. Blond hair. Azure eyes. Bright. Sweet. Blond. Eyes. Smile. Perfect.  
  
Perfect.  
  
Tsukino Usagi--the name was perhaps permanently imprinted on his dead, shriveled heart, down deep where the flesh was still tender. It hurt. It hurt so badly to think of her and yet, at the same time, it let him breathe easier. It lifted the weight from his shoulders. He smiled. Was it only yesterday that they had been together...?  
  
***  
  
5 years, eight months, two days, 54 minutes ago  
  
***  
  
"Catch me if you can!"  
  
Heart hammering, eleven-year-old Tsukino Usagi twisted to avoid the eager fingers of twelve-year-old Yui Hiiro in the back yard of her home...er, mansion.  
  
Finally Hiiro leapt at her and caught a handful of her silky dress. Neither knew which one had tripped, causing the tumble, and it didn't matter. Panting, spread out on the lush green grass, they laughed. Soon there was a comfortable silence between them, only the sounds of their breathing mingling with the chirping of the birds and low hum of spring insects.  
  
"You--you caught me," Usagi said. "Now--now it's--your turn."  
  
"I know, but I can't." It always amazed her that while she was out of breath, Hiiro was unflagging. He propped himself up on one elbow, staring over at her. "I have to go."  
  
Usagi copied Hiiro's position. Suddenly she was infinitely sad. The flickering flame of hope she'd had that perhaps this day would be different was squashed. "Aww..already?" She didn't want him to go; as it stood, she barely got enough time to play with him without him running off. "Can't you stay longer?"  
  
His answer was simple: "No."  
  
"Not for five more minutes?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Please?"  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because!"  
  
Hiiro stood and brushed himself off. He was a boy of medium height and slim build. His chocolate hair was windswept, although there was no wind. She thought she heard a smile in his voice when he said, "If you insist."  
  
She was surprised, but very pleased. Her rushing joy could only be compared to that of a bride's, or a mother after giving birth. She realized she was rather spontaneous in doing what she did next. She'd meant to simply hug him. No sooner had Hiiro suspected something than he was on his back, Usagi on top of him. Her legs straddling his abdomen and one arm around his neck, Usagi discovered--as she turned a deep shade of red--their lips touching.  
  
~~~  
  
Hiiro was also in a predicament, with no room to move back and certainly no audacity to move forward. His hands, moist from the dew on the grass, lightly clasped Usagi's shoulders. He thought he could feel the heat of her blush, hear the small whimper in her throat. He didn't have to worry himself with a reaction, however, for too quickly Usagi was scampering to her feet. He too stood and straightened. Her flickering gaze, which never stayed in one place and pointedly avoided him, indicated she was miffed.  
  
"I'm--well, that is to say--I didn't mean to do that and..." she murmured, but trailed off. The sentence hung in the air. The noise of the daytime faded away. They seemed to be standing thousands of miles apart, and neither knew why.  
  
She didn't mean to kiss me, was Hiiro's initial thought. It wasn't a real kiss, it was an accident.  
  
~~~  
  
It wasn't even a kiss, Usagi told herself. She felt she had to look at anything--the sky, the ground, her fingernails, anything--other than Hiiro, because when she looked at him, heat crawled from her neck to her cheeks. She thought he would look right through her to the secrets within, and if he ever found out that...  
  
No, she thought. No, he'll never know.  
  
She wrung her hands nervously. "I'm sorry, Hiiro," she said. She was careful to maintain a fairly straight face while he watched her. She wished he would look away. She wished he would say something to relieve the tension building, ready to smother her.  
  
~~~  
  
He took all of her in, the total picture of a fidgeting girl struggling with conflicting emotions. He saw her brow crease--this, he thought, made her all the more adorable--in worry and concentration. She pursed her lips and scrunched up her small nose, and it seemed to him that she was almost shrinking, trying to fold in on herself. "I'm sorry, Hiiro," she said.  
  
Then, it hit him.  
  
She was shrinking away from *him*. She was fidgeting under *his* gaze. She was uncomfortable when *he* observed her for too long. He wanted to console her, ease her fears of losing him as a friend. He said tentatively, "Don't be sorry."  
  
Her blue eyes were fixated on him for a moment. "You're not...mad at me?"  
  
He shook his head, and even debated about whether or not he should tell her that...  
  
No, he thought. No, she'll never know.  
  
Usagi smiled warmly. She came to stand by his side and took his hand in hers. She led him across the patio and through the sliding doors into her house, where she made him sit on the couch in her living room. Hiiro didn't resist, but only for Usagi--he would do anything for his best friend.  
  
She left the room. A minute later she came back, carrying a box. He couldn't see its contents. Her eyes twinkled as she instructed him to close his eyes--and to not peek--and hold out his hands. He grudgingly complied. Something small and long and sleek was pressed into his palms. He thought the object might be metallic, but he wasn't sure. It was awfully light for metal.  
  
"Okay...now you can look."  
  
It was a...  
  
"A knife?" he asked, very surprised. Indeed, it was an army knife--the kind with the retractable blade, the kind that was easily sharp enough to slice through bone and metal, the kind used to kill. "Usagi, why did you...where did you...?"  
  
"Do you like it? I bought it just for you, 'cause, you know, you're into that sort of stuff," she said, and it was obvious to Hiiro that she had no idea, absolutely *no* idea she had given him a weapon. She didn't understand the concept of killing or bloodshed. Sweet, sheltered little Usagi, daughter to the famous diplomat, Tsukino Kenji.  
  
Something hot and painful squeezed tight around his heart. In the depths of Usagi's eyes he saw her innocence. He felt heavy guilt and fear that he might someday taint her. Viciously stomping the idea away, he smiled at her. "I like it a lot. Thanks."  
  
~~~  
  
"I like it a lot. Thanks," he said. His smile didn't escape her. She didn't smile back. Instead she plopped down on the couch beside him. She felt oddly giddy, like she was going to lose something precious very soon. She needed something solid, something real and firm that could keep her grounded. "Hiiro," she began. "Hiiro, would you do me a favor?" His nod gave her the courage to proceed. "Promise me that we'll--that we'll always be friends. Promise me, please."  
  
He didn't hesitate. In fact, he said it so quickly that she wondered if he had known what she had been going to say before she'd said it. "I promise we'll always be best friends, Usagi-chan."  
  
There it was. The first time he'd called her "Usagi-chan," as opposed to "Usagi." The "chan" was significant in that it endeared her to him. She knew she had nicknamed him "Hii-chan" in the past--mostly to aggravate him and for amusement--but she rarely called him that. She called him "Hiiro- chan" or plain ol' "Hiiro."  
  
But now she didn't know what to say, how to respond. She hadn't expected him to promise her anything; she hadn't expected him to be as compassionate and gentle as he was. She scooted closer to him on the couch. She put her arms around him and leaned into his warmth, breathed in the faint scent of roses on the fabric of his shirt.  
  
She didn't notice the tears running down her pale cheeks.  
  
~~~~  
  
The familiar feel of her arms encircling his chest, her hands coming to lock behind his upper back, a soft mop of flower-scented blond hair tucking itself under his chin, and warm wetness soaking through the fabric of his shirt flooded his senses. He heard choked murmurs, which faded to small hiccups and, soon enough, silence. The whole time he rocked her back and forth protectively. He smoothed her hair and whispered words of comfort. Between them there was a connection, discreet, slowly growing.  
  
It was evening. The sun went down beyond the crest of the nearby hills and they were both asleep. They dreamt of each other.  
  
***  
  
back in the present  
  
***  
  
Tsukino Usagi sat at her desk in her office. Head bent, she lost herself in her paperwork. Busily she typed up orders and filed them. Tomorrow the orders would be ready to be sent by mail to the factory.  
  
Usagi was a printing broker. She worked for her company with many other brokers. Here, a customer called in and told one of the brokers over the phone what they wanted made--mostly customers wanted business cards. The broker typed up the customer's information, or order, and then found a factory--there were specific factories all over the country that dealt only through printing brokers--to send it to, where it would be made for the cheapest price possible.  
  
At two o'clock, she sighed heavily and stretched. She leaned back in her chair and put her feet on her desk. So far, she'd gotten twenty-two orders from customers and had only typed up eighteen. If she had any remaining orders by the end of working hours, she'd take them home and finish them tonight using her own computer. Her boss should be pleased with that.  
  
Her stomach made a sort of squishy noise before growling lowly. Sharp hunger tore at her insides. She put her hands to her belly sadly. She hadn't yet eaten. Her lunch break had been an hour or so ago, but she had been worrying about her paperwork and falling behind on it and she had missed her chance to leave for food. Darn.  
  
She stood and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt. Maybe Minako would allow her a brief twenty-minute period of leisure, during which she would pick up a cheese-burger--extra pickle, no mustard, sesame-seed bun--at McDonalds.  
  
Cheered and rosy-cheeked because of the prospect of food, Usagi grabbed her jacket and, humming a tune, exited her office and closed the door behind her.  
  
***  
  
Yui Hiiro holstered his gun. It had been a long day indeed. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples--it seemed he hoped he might rid himself of his throbbing migraine by this simple action.  
  
But his headaches were of the least importance on a very long list of other problems, one of them being that Dr. J had just awarded him with another delightful mission. Dr. J had received an e-mail from a terrorist who wanted thirteen million dollars in ransom money in exchange for a kidnapped kid--what was the kid's name again? Usuko or Asugi or something--who was supposedly the daughter of a prominent political figure. Which political figure, Dr. J didn't know--there were so many of them these days.  
  
Hiiro checked the daily newspaper. He didn't find anything about a kidnapped rich brat. That meant she hadn't been kidnapped yet. The terrorist was planning to do it soon, though. Hiiro would have to wait. Damn.  
  
***  
  
Usagi felt a distinct dread the instant her fingertips left the doorknob of her office. She couldn't place it, but she thought she sensed trouble brewing. Deep trouble. Big trouble. Trouble from which only pain could come.  
  
The building was bustling and busy and stifling. Usagi scanned the many rows of cubical offices that filled the entire big room for Minako Aino, the sort of Head Supervisor of all that went on within company walls. Upon seeing a pretty head of long blond hair, she made her way through the scurrying employees, calling, "Minako-chan! Minako!"  
  
But Minako didn't seem to hear her. She stood with her back turned to Usagi, conversing with another employee--what was his name again? Bill or Bob or something--at the vending machine. Usagi frowned. She didn't have time to get Minako's attention if she wanted to get done with all of her work before five o'clock. But if she didn't as--  
  
Suddenly there was a scream. Soon thereafter more shouts made her whip around. People were running past her, rushing and stumbling to the nearest exit. And panicking. Everyone was either panicking or held paralyzed to the spot by some invisible force, some unknown threat.  
  
Then.  
  
Then the gunshots blazed by the dozens--she guessed they were machine guns because they made horrible rapping noises, firing several bullets at the ceiling in steady streams. Men in thick, black body suits, well-armed men, were swarming through the silver double-doors of the entrance of the building.  
  
She herself screamed. And she knew. She knew this is what she had felt was going to happen. She knew this was going to swallow her whole. It was a wave of terror that was going to grab her and never let go. These men were here to take her. They were here for her. They wanted her. Only her.  
  
It was happening so fast.  
  
Oh, God, she thought, just as men surrounded her. God, Lord, have mercy.  
  
Two grabbed for her arms and another for her legs. They must have predicted she was too afraid to move and that they could capture her easily. They were right about one thing--she was shocked and stunned and for long moments couldn't move.  
  
"USAGI!!!!" Minako was on top of a man, beating his face and chest with her fists, clawing at his eyes. "DON'T YOU TOUCH HER!!!"  
  
By the time Usagi regained herself they were practically carrying her away. But quickly she resolved to never go quietly--she loved life and her freedom too much. Minako was fighting for her, risking her own life and freedom for her. Usagi felt she owed it to Minako to at least return the favor.  
  
So she fought. She screamed. Her fingernails tore into the fabric of their shirts, which was hard to penetrate so she focused on where they were exposed. Cotton and skin and blood bunched up under her nails, thick and stifling. She couldn't stop screaming, she couldn't stop trying to kill the men who were clutching at them.  
  
They let the two of them go, taken partially aback by the onslaught--Usagi saw Minako run and lock herself in an office. Through the transparent window, Minako looked out at her, her blue eyes teary and pleading. Usagi thought she saw one word in Minako's eyes.  
  
Escape.  
  
Usagi was on her feet, panting, and she bolted. She sprinted. She ran in whatever direction, she didn't care. She could almost sense them raising their guns to aim at her back before a pain she'd never known existed hammered through her shoulder. But she didn't stop. The one word burned into her mind. This word wasn't so much a word as a need within her, filling her. Usagi knew only this word.  
  
Escape.  
  
But so far! So far to the exit and it was her only hope. She felt another bullet rip her, tear her. More hot blood gushed from the newest wound and she gasped. She could not do this thing, could not bear the dizzying loss of energy that the blood seemed to take with it as it left her body, and she fell, took a great fall that would--finally--win, finally end her. She laid still, everything laid still. A color came that she had never seen before, a color that exploded in her mind with the pain and she was gone, gone from it all, spiraling out into the world, spiraling out into nothing.  
  
Nothing.  
  
***  
  
Author's Notes: Hope you thought this was somewhat enjoyable, if nothing else. I'd greatly appreciate any feedback! ^^ And this is absolutely, positively, no matter WHAT going to be a Hiiro/Usagi pairing fic! 


	2. Chapter One: Doom and Gloom

Author's notes: Whelp, I got this new chapter written from scratch and posted in record time! I know, be proud!  
  
KyLara ~ You'll get to see what happens next in this chapter. I'm glad you think the story's good so far. ^^  
  
: P ~ I'm glad you "love the way this is going." I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much, if not more, than the last. ^^  
  
Salena Winner ~ Wow! That good, huh? Lol. I'm flattered. I got this chapter out as soon as I could. Hope you enjoy it.  
  
DragonGirl ~ Really? You think so? ^^ I'm surprised you thought it was that great, but I'm still flattered. I'm also glad I explained things well-- painting a picture in a reader's mind is one of my favorite parts of writing. LOL! Adoring fans? That comes as a shock! ^^ I don't think I've ever had any! And I get it. ^^  
  
starfury3000 ~ I'm glad you think so. I tried my best to write this chapter. ^^ I hope you enjoy it.  
  
key ~ I wrote this chapter as fast as I could. Like I said, it was in record time. I'm happy you thought this story was good enough to continue. ^^  
  
Silver-Star ~ Your waiting days are over, missy! Here's the next chapter for your enjoyment (hopefully). ^^  
  
Lovely Angel ~ I'm happy you like the story so far! Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the first! ^^  
  
Mystic Angel ~ "Wow" is a big word, much too big for my writing. ^^ But I'm glad you like the story so far. I hope you enjoy this chapter.  
  
Sunshine Fia ~ **pats you on the back** I know, I know. Poor Usagi! Poor Minako! Poor Hiiro! I'm so evil to them. -_-;; Hehe. I'm just glad I'll never be in one of their stories. I'd fear for my health, considering they deserve to pay me back for all their inflicted torture and misery. ^^;; Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! And I'm sorry, but there are more hardships for our beloved characters. :'(  
  
Dreamertwin ~ Hiiro? How will Hiiro react? Hehe. ^^ You'll see. But perhaps Hiiro's reaction is not the only one you should worry about. -_-;;  
  
Sere Star ~ I'm glad you think so! And I can't get enough Hiiro/Usagi pairings, either. I'm a sucker for the couple, what can I say? ^^ Hope you enjoy this chapter!  
  
Rheia ~ I'm so glad you think it has potential and also that you agree with the main pairing, but I'm flattered that you like the title. ^^ I didn't know how people would like it, although I thought it was a sweet title. I hope you enjoy this chapter!  
  
Vixen ~ Lordie, that's a lot of adjectives! I'm so flattered you think so! I'm undeserving of your compliments. Lol. Seriously. ^^ I'm extremely glad you seem to like and enjoy the story so far, however. Why, you're one of my favorite authors! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. ^^  
  
Moon Smurf ~ I'm sincerely glad you like the story enough that you want me to e-mail you when I update, but unfortunately I usually don't have enough time on my hands to e-mail everybody who requests it of me. I'm terribly sorry. : ( I hope you stop by and notice that this story has been updated, though, even without my notifying you. If you do happen to realize it's been updated, I hope you read and enjoy this chapter. ^^  
  
Sammie ~ I'm happy you think so. -_-;; However, it never occurred to me to involve the sailor senshi in this story. I already had some of the plot worked out, and to add the sailor senshi part would alter a lot of things completely. I'll think about it, however. ^^ Hope you enjoy this chapter, even though it is senshi-free.  
  
Now, on with the show...  
  
~~~~  
  
The memory was like a knife cutting into him. Slicing deep into him with hate.  
  
The Breaking.  
  
He had been running alongside Usagi in the sunshine. They had taken a picnic out into the garden area--which had been solely Usagi's idea--and decided to come back a different way, a way that took them past a pond with a small bridge over it.  
  
Hiiro remembered everything in incredible detail. Remembered the time on the watch on his wrist, flashing 12:14 P.M., then the temperature, 93 degrees, and the date. He had been fourteen years old. All the numbers were part of his memory, all of his life was part of the memory.  
  
Usagi had just turned to smile at him about something and he looked over her head and saw them.  
  
Assassins.  
  
They were kneeling behind a clump of bushes, a strange clump of bushes with thorns and pink flowers. He saw them and they saw him. They saw Usagi. Hiiro was going to grab his friend's hand and run, but something stopped him.  
  
If they ran, their watchers would be sure to shoot. It occurred to Hiiro that they were here on account of him. They wanted him. Only him.  
  
Short black hair, the one man had. Wearing some kind of navy pullover shirt and jeans. His partner was completely concealed in the leaves of the bushes save for his face.  
  
Hiiro saw this and more, saw the Breaking and saw more later, but the memory came in pieces, came in scenes like this--Usagi smiling, him looking over her head to see the bushes and the assassins, the time and temperature, the blue sky, the navy shirt of the man, the burning horrors of the memory were exact.  
  
The Breaking.  
  
~~~~  
  
Hiiro opened his eyes and felt white-hot desperation clamp down on his insides, squeezing and pulling. For seconds he did not know where he was, only that the Breaking was still happening and he was going to lose Usagi.  
  
Lose her.  
  
Forever.  
  
But light fell over his face, light cut into slivers that shone through the drawn blinds. He twisted on his bed to look away from the morning sunlight and refreshed himself with a wide yawn. The cold dread dissipated as his head was washed of sleep and he knew it had been but another dream. One out of dozens, hundreds, he had had since the Breaking. Always he relived the day he lost her. Always he feared losing her.  
  
But I've already lost her, he reminded himself. There's no use crying over it, not anymore.  
  
He lay in bed for a moment more, still drowning in his thoughts, before sliding out from underneath the sheets and padding to the adjacent bathroom. He splashed cold water from the faucet on his face and neck. He couldn't shake a queasy sort of uneasiness weighing heavy in his gut.  
  
Blindly reaching for one of the fluffy towels Quatre always insisted on keeping in Hiiro's bathroom, he pulled it from its rack and dried himself. Absently he wondered where the rest of the house's occupants were--he'd heard in a roundabout way that Duo, Wufei, and Trowa were visiting as well.  
  
Sitting on his bed, he threw on his usual "ensemble" of a green shirt, black shorts, and sneakers. It wasn't much, just enough to take care of whatever business at hand. He ran his fingers through his hair.  
  
Already the entire mansion was stirring. He heard voices filtering up from somewhere a few floors down. He needed to get to work. After all, that girl must have been kidnapped by now, right?  
  
He took his time getting to the kitchen, where the sweet aroma of pancakes and eggs and sizzling bacon clung to the hot air. Seated at the table, quite unsurprisingly, were his fellow comrades and former gundam pilots.  
  
Duo looked up at him instantly, almost sensing his presence in the doorway, while Trowa and Wufei barely spared him a glance. Wufei was too busy glaring daggers at Duo. Hiiro decided he wouldn't ask.  
  
Quatre adorned a frilly pink apron--obviously courtesy of one of his many sisters--and stood humming a happy tune before the stove, flipping bacon expertly with the spatula. He turned to Hiiro and smiled warmly. "Good morning, Hiiro. Would you like something to eat? There's plenty here," he said, indicating toward his cooking.  
  
Hiiro nodded. He sat at the large round dining table, crossed his arms over his chest, and waited patiently, staring into nothing. He felt a tap on his shoulder. Duo was grinning at him and asked cheerfully, "So what have you been up to these past two weeks? Wufei, Trowa and I haven't seen hide nor hair of you since the last mission."  
  
Oh. Right. Hiiro had forgotten to contact them. That is, of course, they didn't really need to know his exact location every moment, but he knew they had grown closer since the end of the war and that they expected him to at least notify them of his condition. His gundam had crashed and sunk in the lake. Who wouldn't wonder whether or not he was dead? Quatre hadn't even known, and Hiiro had been staying in his mansion--it just went to show how very big beyond all reason Quatre's mansions really were.  
  
"I've been around," he said calmly, just as Wufei switched on the television set on the counter. A woman's face materialized. She was staring out at them and her lips were moving, but there was no sound.  
  
"Turn it up," Trowa instructed.  
  
"...diplomat Tsukino Kenji. The search has been in progress since late yesterday afternoon. No traces have been found. The Tsukino family is still waiting for a ransom note," she said seriously and shook her head, adding, "So sad. That poor girl. We'll show her picture again."  
  
A photograph of a smiling teenager, her blond hair pulled back and away from her face into unusual buns and pigtails. Blue eyes. She was sitting at a table in front of a birthday cake all a-glow with candles. Someone was sitting next to her, but his face was partially cut off. Hiiro recognized the boy as himself. He recognized the girl, too.  
  
There was a shattering sound. Quatre was trembling, his broken coffee mug in a thousand pieces on the floor, steaming coffee pooling around his feet. "Oh, my God..."  
  
The girl. She was Usagi.  
  
~~~~  
  
A groan. Some ruffling of cloth, shifting noises and scraping. She opened her eyes and screamed.  
  
She did not know where she was, only that their hands were on her and she was going to die or worse, and she screamed until her breath was gone.  
  
Then silence, filled with sobs as she pulled air into her lungs, half crying. How could it be so quiet? Moments ago there was nothing but noise, gunshots and screaming, grunting and tearing, yells, now quiet. She realized her limbs were outrageously stiff, as if she had been lying on a hard floor all night. Her legs felt dead and she tried to raise herself up and see them, but pain hammered into her--it originated from her side and shoulder--and made her breaths shorten into gasps and she stopped.  
  
She didn't look at her surroundings, they were unimportant. She thought she might be laying on a cot of some sort--certainly it wasn't a bed, being so uncomfortable--with a cover and a small pillow.  
  
Then she closed her eyes, only this time to rest, to save something of herself. She lay on her good side and put her head on her arm because that was all she could do now, all she could think of being able to do. She faded and slept, fell to where fatigue drug her, deep and down.  
  
~~~~  
  
Usagi felt as if she were drifting in a sort of unreality. All around her there was darkness, pitch-black darkness that leered and clawed at her. She screamed.  
  
~~~~  
  
And suddenly she was bathed in cold gray light. She blinked. As the room was pulled into clarity, out of the fuzzy world of sleep and gloom and into reality, the throbbing in her forehead grew to be a splitting migraine.  
  
She turned her head without moving her body and saw, through the dim light, the room in which she lay. It was empty and sickeningly white--like a hospital room--and smelled stale. The only object in the room was the small, thin, inadequately covered cot. Directly to her left a boarded-up window allowed a few rays of dawn to sliver in through its cracks. It was cold.  
  
And she was still in pain, all-over pain. Her legs were cramped and drawn up, tight and aching, and her back hurt when she tried to move.  
  
Her forehead felt massively swollen to the touch, almost like a mound out over her eyes, and it was so tender that when her fingers grazed it she nearly cried, but there was nothing she could do about it. She must have acquired it from her fall.  
  
Worse still were the keening throbs in her shoulder and side which pulsed with every beat of her heart. It seemed the burning had dulled to a raw sting. When she would move or disturb the bullet wounds, however, agony consumed her like white-hot fire.  
  
Once, she reached down and discovered her side to be thoroughly bandaged. Her shoulder was the same. They--"they" meaning her kidnappers--must have applied medication to it. Otherwise, she would have long-since bled to death.  
  
She sat up--or tried to. The first time she fell back. But on the second attempt, grunting with the effort, biting her lips against the pain until they bled, squeezing tears from her eyes, she managed to come to a sitting position and scrunched sideways until her back was against the hard wall where she sat facing the window, watching as the light filtering in through the cracks got brighter and warmer.  
  
Her clothes were dirty and clammy and a faint chill swept through her. She pulled the thin blanket of the cot, a sheet really, around her shoulders, and tried to secure what heat her body could find. She could not think, could not make thought patterns work right. Things seemed to go back and forth between reality and imagination--except that it was all reality. One second she seemed only to have imagined that she had been kidnapped, that she had fought off grown men alongside Minako, that she was here in this cold, dark place; that it had all happened to some other person or in a movie playing in her mind.  
  
Then she would feel her clothes, damp and cold, and her forehead and side and shoulder would slash pains through her thoughts and she would know it was real, that it had really happened. But all in a haze, all in a haze- world. So she sat and stared at the window and felt the pain come and go in waves.  
  
It took an hour, perhaps two--she could not measure time yet and didn't care--for enough light to come through the window to allow her to see properly. With this light came footsteps. Slowly the building was stirring. For a few minutes she heard voices right outside the door. Then the door creaked open.  
  
Three men entered. They were quiet, walking in her direction, and seemed not to notice she was awake until one of them looked up. Suddenly they all stopped moving. She saw that the man who had first noticed her had fair hair and a fair complexion and carried a first-aid kit. The others were empty-handed.  
  
Their mild startlement quickly disappeared as they continued to her bedside, where they stopped. The blond man set the kit on the floor. He nodded to his two companions. She thought she saw him glance at her. She also thought she saw something in his eyes.  
  
Extreme pity.  
  
By then, the two men already had her lying on her stomach and were pinning her arms and legs to the bed, firmly but gently. But when the man--who she now knew was an actual doctor--took a pair of odd-looking tweezers from his kit and she realized what his intentions were, she started thrashing and screaming for all she was worth and they struggled to hold her still.  
  
Quick hands removed her bandages. She sensed him bringing the tweezers to her bullet wound in her side. She felt a stab--which was probably just a poke--in her tender flesh and a burning pain, a pain double that of actually getting shot, seared through her. Pain sizzled her insides and flushed her cheeks a hot red, and she was sobbing wretchedly.  
  
"Shh, the side wounds are always the hardest, dear..." she heard the doctor murmur.  
  
Warm blood was trickling steadily from the re-opened wound and soaking into the fabric of the cot. "No...please stop..please..." she choked brokenly. But he didn't stop. He didn't slow down and let her take a breather before digging into her wound again and again, prodding for the bullet. Finally she heard a squishy sucking sound and a barely audible 'pop,' and something small and metallic was dropped into a container.  
  
The doctor had been right--side wounds were harder. Eventually her body went numb, everything went numb. She couldn't focus. The room was spinning and they were working on her shoulder with the tweezers when she lapsed into unconsciousness.  
  
She had a departing thought...  
  
She thought, not quite knowing whether to be grateful or to just wallow in her physical agony, At least the bullet's gone.  
  
~~~~  
  
He looked through the window and into the room, watched her sleep fitfully, the quietly strangled sobs gurgling up her throat and forming one word. No, one name.  
  
"Hiiro," she cried, for what was probably the thousandth time that day. "Hiiro, Hiiro...Hiiro."  
  
He fixated the nearby men with a cold, disapproving eye. The girl, the one that had taken so much careful planning to kidnap, had been left untended until that morning. She had been shot twice--or so he'd heard--and the bullets had been left alone too long and the wounds had already been in the process of closing, of healing. Removing the bullets and re-opening the wounds had caused further damage. Now, they were infected. She was hot with fever.  
  
The doctor was the only man who didn't cower in fright under his reprimanding. "I removed the bullets and cleaned her wounds as best I could. I can only do so much," he had said grimly. "I have faith that she will not die."  
  
Growling lowly, Mr. Chiba walked into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. He went to where she slept on the small cot and, bending down, placed a cool hand over her forehead. She hiccuped and moaned, rolling with much effort to the side.  
  
Dried up rivers of tears framed her face, made her closed eyes and flushed cheeks puffy. Her gleaming blond hair was disheveled and coming undone from her buns and pigtails. Her clothes had been changed. She adorned a large white T-shirt that reached her mid-thigh, leaving her shapely legs exposed.  
  
Unexpectedly he reached out and released her hair from its bondage--thick masses of it cascaded over the side of the cot and onto the floor. He rubbed a piece of it between his thumb and forefinger and it was silky- soft.  
  
Mr. Chiba noted that she was not a girl, but not quite a woman. She was developing, yes, and she was pretty--full, generous lips, a wide forehead, fair eyebrows, high cheek-bones, and a creamy complexion combined to create an altogether angelic face.  
  
If she healed, perhaps he could make more use of her than simply a ticket to money. Much more.  
  
~~~~  
  
Author's Notes: Review, please? I really enjoyed writing this story so far and I need to know if anybody enjoyed reading it. ^^ 


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